


A New Hobby

by frankenberger



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: But there is a penis, Fluff, Gray-Asexuality, Kissing, M/M, Mostly Fluff, One Shot, it's not an explicit penis though, post-episode s01:e06 The Very Last Day of the Rest of Their Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 08:10:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19291738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankenberger/pseuds/frankenberger
Summary: Following the apocalypse that didn't quite eventuate, Aziraphale takes some time out to indulge himself in a spot of light reading. Crowley, on the other hand, decides that they should try out some new activities.A short fic featuring my favourite ineffable husbands. I hope you enjoy. <3





	A New Hobby

While the benefits of averting the imminent apocalypse were many, Aziraphale was particularly pleased by the additional time it afforded him for reading. He had been around for six thousand years, give or take, but in the grand scheme of things the written word was relatively new. There were lots of new books every year, and barely enough hours in a day. He never harbored the ambition of reading every book ever written, but he would have been disappointed to have not experienced all the works of worthwhile literature due to the inconvenience of the seas boiling and the world engulfed in flames.

This particular book was rather good, he thought. It was called _Biggles goes to Mars_ , and appeared to be a new addition to his collection, courtesy of the young former Antichrist. It wasn’t the kind of book he had a tendency to read. It was clearly written for a younger reader (and there were few readers older than Aziraphale himself), but it was quite exciting. This was obviously artistic license on the part of the author, as Mars was not the most exciting place to be. There were no Michelin starred restaurants on Mars, for a start. Aziraphale turned the page carefully with the tip of a glove-clad finger, intent on preserving the mint condition of the tome, when he heard the unmistakable noise of someone sidling into the room. 

“Crowley,” he said, without raising his eyes from the unlikely tale of a plucky fighter pilot on a secret mission to the red planet. “I thought you were taking a nap.”

“I was,” replied the demon, his voice positively weighty with anticipatory amusement.

Aziraphale glanced up toward Crowley and immediately dropped the very rare first edition in a state of sheer panic. “Oh,” he said, his gaze sliding off the demon like water off something that water slides off. A duck, he recalled. Given that his book was now on the floor and he had nothing equally distracting to look at, he suddenly became very interested in examining the faded fabric of the sofa upon which he sat.

“I have a present for you,” Crowley said, thankfully out of Aziraphale’s line of sight.

Aziraphale wanted to ask the demon where he was keeping said present, given that Crowley was entirely naked. He wasn’t even wearing his dark glasses. Perhaps he had left the present in his pocket, wherever his pocket was. Aziraphale wanted to ask the demon why his slender and admittedly elegant naked form was currently augmented (and generously augmented, at that) with an appendage that was quite familiar to human males but was irregular, to say the least, among demons and angels. He asked neither of these questions, instead saying “Er,” as his eyes studiously traced the tendrils of aging flowers on the sofa.

Aziraphale had been comfortable until this point in his existence to be sexless, as he had never felt the need to make an effort. Crowley, it seemed, had felt the need. Quite impressively so.

“Don’t you like it?” Crowley asked. “I made it just for you. For us. Thwarting the apocalypse deserves a celebration, and I’m always in the market for new hobbies.”

Aziraphale certainly appreciated the value of keeping oneself occupied, but this potential hobby seemed rather too disconcertingly dangly for his tastes. He cleared his throat. “I won’t speak to you until you put some clothes on, Crowley.” His voice was timid and somewhat shaky.

“Oh, come on, angel.” Crowley’s voice, in contrast, was low and seductive. He had gone into full temptation mode. He crouched down beside the sofa, retrieving the now slightly scuffed copy of _Biggles goes to Mars_ and holding it out toward the angel. “I gave it a trial run upstairs just before. Would be a lot more fun with someone else involved. Maybe you could give yourself one too, and we could…”

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, who seemed suddenly to be standing far too close to him. The room itself seemed suddenly too stuffy. Keeping his gaze fixed on Crowley’s snake-like eyes, Aziraphale reached out and took the book, fingertips briefly brushing against fingertips. “I can’t concentrate while you keep waggling that thing at me, dear.” He wasn’t referring to the book. Although it defied the physics of peripheral vision, he couldn’t help but be distracted by Crowley’s brand new set of genitalia. He felt his face grow flushed. “Put some clothes on, and we’ll have a drink.”

“Take some clothes off, and we’ll have a drink,” Crowley countered, a grin spreading across his frustratingly angular face. “You’ve been around for the entirety of human history. The good, the bad, and the utterly debauched. You can’t possibly tell me you’ve never been curious about sex.”

If he were being honest (and he generally was, as a rule), Aziraphale had to admit that he had indeed been curious about fornication. But it had been in a more scholarly, detached kind of way rather than a hands-on, actively participating, messy kind of way. He had seldom been in a situation where sex was a possibility, and he had been perfectly content to simply read about it or watch depictions in various films. He quite enjoyed kissing, he had discovered during one memorable evening at a discreet gentleman’s club, but even that was something he hadn’t indulged in often. It all seemed a little unbecoming of an angel. “It’s indecent,” Aziraphale said finally.

“You should know that decency isn’t one of my preferred attributes,” Crowley said. He was so perilously close, so pendulously present, but he didn’t make any move to touch Aziraphale. Despite his words, there was an element of decency in the demon. Nothing that Aziraphale would mention, of course, lest he be told unceremoniously to shut up. 

“It’s not as if you’re going to get dragged to Hell for sodomy, nobody does.” Crowley scoffed. “Besides, you’ve been there recently. You faced the very royalty of Hell, and then calmly took a nice bath.”

“It was a bit cold,” Aziraphale noted. “You wouldn’t think, a cold bath in Hell.”

“I’m just trying to say that you’re not afraid of Hell.” Crowley replied. “You’re not afraid of divine retribution, either. You’re not afraid of me.”

Aziraphale felt a lump in his throat, composed no doubt of an inconvenient accumulation of words he didn’t quite know how to say. “I’m not afraid of you,” he confirmed, with a sigh. “I care about you, very deeply. But you go too fast for me, Crowley.”

“I can do slow,” Crowley said, “Do you trust me?”

“Occasionally,” the angel replied.

“Then, make this one of those occasions. Stand up.”

With a great deal of uncertainty and very little coordination in his trembling limbs, Aziraphale got to his feet. Before him, the naked demon radiated a palpable heat. “Now what?” He asked, his voice a mere squeak above silence.

“Kiss me, angel.”

Now, this was something he knew how to do. Aziraphale reached out with a tentative hand, burying it in the hair at the back of Crowley’s neck as he closed the distance between them. Their lips met, chastely at first, but deepening as Aziraphale gained confidence and Crowley began to loosen his grip on his self-control. He really did have the most wicked tongue, and it seemed he knew how to use it. Aziraphale groaned against him, imagining briefly what other obscene acts this serpentine tongue could accomplish if he gave it free rein.

Crowley’s fingers curled around his shoulder, pulling their bodies together. Even through his multiple layers of clothing, Aziraphale got a very firm sense that Crowley was enjoying himself. And, despite his protests, he couldn’t claim that the desire was one-sided. He may not have been able to express it in such a physical fashion, but there was a certain sensation deep in his corporeal form that he had never experienced before. A tingly sensation. It wasn’t unpleasant.

When they finally parted, Aziraphale felt as if he would have been panting for oxygen had he had an actual physical need to breathe. “Now what?” He asked again, knowing that he wouldn’t be entirely unreceptive to anything the demon could suggest.

Crowley chucked deeply in his throat, twining one of Aziraphale’s white curls around his finger as he gazed fondly at the angel. “I don’t need this,” he admitted. “We’ve gotten along just fine until now, haven’t we? I just wanted you to know that I’m up for it, if that’s something you want.”

Aziraphale nodded, but realised it was probably an insufficient response. “I- I wouldn’t rule it out,” he said.

“Then, let me tempt you.” Crowley leaned in toward him, his lips tickling at the curls over Aziraphale’s ear as he whispered. “Come and take a nap with me.”

Aziraphale felt a shiver pass through him. “Oh,” he said. “I believe I could… Yes, I would like that.”

Crowley took his hand. “If it turns into anything more than that, then…”

“If it does, it does.” Aziraphale allowed the demon to lead him toward the back of the bookstore, the staircase that led upstairs. “Hold on, though. I don’t have a bed.”

“You do now,” Crowley replied. “A necessary expense, if I’m going to be spending a lot more time here.”

Aziraphale smiled, turning his head to look at Crowley. The tiny wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the gentle curve of his lips as he smiled. He looked happy, and it radiated to envelop the both of them. “A lot more time?” He asked, squeezing Crowley’s hand tighter. “I would like that.”

Perhaps there was room for new hobbies in Aziraphale’s repertoire after all. Being in love? Now, that was a fine hobby.

**Author's Note:**

> I have loved these two for so long. I'm so pleased at how the TV series turned out, and how lovely the ensuing fandom has turned out to be. 
> 
> I've opened a new public twitter, but as I'm the complete opposite of prolific it will be fairly uneventful over there. Anyway, you can find me at [@at_frankie](https://twitter.com/at_frankie) if you want to for some reason.


End file.
